


Breaking Down the Wall

by dreamsquirrel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Language, M/M, Multi, Past Sexual Abuse, Possible Character Death, Romance, Science Fiction, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsquirrel/pseuds/dreamsquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino Vargas is a drifter of many sorts, never truly able to find a place among this Kaiju-ridden world. In order to try and make something out of his life, he starts a new job as a mechanic in order to work on the Jaegers, but from that first day onward, his whole world will change forever, starting with a certain Spanish idiot. Will either of them be able to escape the ghosts of their pasts, or will those ghosts be their downfall?</p><p>Spain and Romano Human AU in the world of Pacific Rim. Tags and Rating may change as chapters are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time publishing on Archive of Our Own, and I'm a little nervous, but I'm going to throw this out anyway. This story is actually based off of an RP a friend and I had done but never got to finish. It was a while ago, so I know that I'm not remembering everything and kind of making this up as I go along, so it'll probably turn out very different from the RP that my friend and I did. (Irene, if you're reading this, I promise I'm trying my best!)
> 
> Anyway, I really hope that you enjoy this fic, and I hope to update regularly. Also, be warned that I'm writing most of these probably very late at night, so if I have any sort of strange mistakes, please let me know. Constructive and/or supportive reviews are very very appreciated!
> 
> Happy reading!

 

 

 

 

“A ship is always safe at the shore - but that is NOT what it is built for.”

― _Albert Einstein_

 

 

* * *

Every day had been like this, ever since he was left alone. Every day was work for money, pay for food, eat the food, sleep, and repeat. Wake up, work, eat, sleep. He hadn't really taken consideration into what kind of work it was as long as it meant he could live another day. Well, that would be a given to the kind of world that Lovino Vargas lived in. 

The young brunette made his way through Tokyo, the crowds thick with others just like him living paycheck to paycheck, yet every face in the crowd was blank. Empty. They were all strangers to Lovino. He didn't mind it at all to be truthful. He liked it better this way: there were no attachments, and therefore no pain to come with them. That's all he knew from being with others, so he kept to himself as he made his way down to the station. 

By sheer luck, he had gotten a new job as a mechanic at a station where Jaegers were built and deployed.

Lovino could never pilot one, not in the slightest - or so he thought. He wasn't the biggest or strongest person out there. Yes, he was quick and had pretty decent reflexes, but he wasn't much of the hero type. He couldn't imagine being in one of those gigantic metal robots, sharing all aspects of yourself with another person just so that they could take a step. There was no way that he would create himself to be that vulnerable, he'd never rip himself open for the sake of everyone else. It just wasn't worth it when he had really no one to care for anymore. But, he figured he would be able to help the effort to fight off Kaijus one way or another, so fixing up broken down Jaegers was the least that he could do for now, anyway.

Tightening his coat around him, he shuffled across the icy sidewalk and headed toward the station, where hundreds of other new workers were gathered in the front. There were tables set up with everyone's assignments, and every worker was grouped with others for a sort of "orientation" about the Jaegers. Lovino just rolled his eyes and walked along with the other "greenhorns" -that's what all the experienced mechanics called them, anyway- and tuned out the instructors. He knew most of the content anyway, since it was all basic mechanics and techniques. Instead of paying attention, emerald eyes slowly wandered up to gaze at the garage around them.

Jaegers taller than office buildings stood mighty and proud, even though had dents the size of cars in their sides and clusters of specialists rewiring open wounds. In the station the Italian was standing in, there were about 8 different Jaegers from what he could see. Some were taller or thinner, others were shorter and bulky, all of them were different in shape and color; they were almost like people except made of metal armor. Lovino had read about Jaegers and how they worked out of interest, but he never realized how many people were needed to keep maintenance on one. All the people that leaned over the edges of bridges and walkways, hanging  halfway off of platforms and covered in grease, all of them looked like little ants compared to the giant metal soldiers. There had been only one other time that he had felt so small.

A sudden spray of sparks above the group from Lovino's peripherals made him jump and spin around. The group had stopped beside a large red and gold painted Jaeger with a platform of mechanics tinkering a section in the robot's left shin. A chorus of disgruntled groans rose from the batch of new workers, hands flying up to shield empty faces, and the guide of Lovino's group turned to see the commotion. "Oi!" he called up, keeping his clip-board at his hip. "Be careful! You don't want to burn up the greenhorns again, Carriedo!"

"Aah! _Perdón, perdón_ ," replied a voice over the whirr of some sort of saw that Lovino couldn't see. However, what he could see was the owner of the first sound, the foreign voice. The mechanic staring down at the group had bushy chocolate hair and tan skin -both of which were covered in all sorts of oil smudges. His face was as bright as his big emerald eyes, making the Italian furrow his brow. How could someone look so damn happy with people dying in the machines that he was working with? "I'll try my best to be careful, sir!" From the accent that Carriedo had, Lovino assumed that he was from some part of Spain.

Those brilliant green eyes gazed down in wonder at the group, flickering from one person to the next as if he was trying to memorize every face. "Woah, there's so many this time around!"

"Tch, doesn't matter," said another mechanic with silver hair even though he seemed as old as the Spaniard, which was pretty young. Mid-twenties maybe? "There aren't any cute girls here anyway! Kesesesese~," he snickered, winking one of his blazing red eyes at the fresh group. It was odd that the man's eyes were red -not like he had rolled up a joint or anything, but the _actual iris itself_ was red. A weird feeling wriggled through Lovino's stomach as he watched the Spainiard elbow the silver-haired male in the side, that maybe these weird characters were everywhere.

Great.

"Gilbert! How many times do I have to tell you that you can't hit on the _new_ workers?" the one called Carriedo groaned, but Gilbert kept hissing out his strange German snicker.

"So I'm allowed to hit on everyone else?"

"GET BACK TO WORK!" snapped the group's guide, causing the horseplay to come to a sudden stop. "Now, let's move on to see the layout of the abdomen..." As the guide began to speak again and walk away, Lovino couldn't help but look back to see those two still watching the greenhorns. Carriedo seemed much more interested than Gilbert, especially when he and the Italian caught eyes.

Lovino's walk slowed for a moment as the eye contact lengthened from one to multiple seconds. It was like this Spanish stranger was trying to stare into Lovino's soul or create a photo-esque memory in his head of what he looked like or something like that. And he wasn't sure exactly why, but the Italian kept the contact until another greenhorn tugged at his upper arm once or twice to get his attention. "If you straggle behind, you'll get in trouble," he muttered, "and I would prefer not to hear him yell again -especially in this direction."

The man beside him was taller than he was -well, a lot of people were, but that's besides the point!- with a mole beside his mouth. His hair was similar to the color of wood, and one very rebellious little cowlick stuck out from atop his head although every other strand was neat and combed. No one was perfect, not even this guy who was so obviously trying to be. "Yeah, yeah," Lovino brushed off the thought bitterly. Who gave this guy the authority to tell him what to do?

"Hmph," the other man made a face as he adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his nose with a finger as he walked, "My name is Roderich Eldenstein. I suppose you should at least hear it once if we're going to be working together."

"Lovino Vargas," the Italian answered back. Roderich held out his hand for Lovino to take, and he hesitated before shaking it. _Keep your distance, Lovino,_ he coached in his head as they walked on together in the back of the crowd.

_You're not going to get hurt again._

-x-

The day passed on slowly at first, since the greenhorns weren't allowed to join the rest of the workers until this orientation had been finished. Roderich and him didn't talk much, just a few questions here and there if one of them missed something -not that Lovino was really focusing on what their instructor had to say anyway. He couldn't stop thinking about the weird look that that Carriedo guy or whatever his name was had on his face. Who just stares at people like that? And didn't it seem like they were looking at each other a little _too_ long? Sheesh, it just gave him a chill thinking about it. People are some of the strangest things if not the absolute weirdest.

When the tour ended, the group headed back to that gold and red painted Jaeger, causing Lovino's face to twist in annoyance. Of course, the two mechanics from before were sitting on their platform, chatting up a storm and laughing like they were around a water jug instead of electric cables. Lovino, Roderich, and a couple others from their group headed onto a platform that lifted up to the Jaeger's right shoulder. As they slowly moved up, they passed by Gilbert and Carriedo when the albino slapped his friend on the back. He couldn't catch the punch-line of the joke they were making, but Gilbert cackled out, "Good one, Antonio!"

Antonio.

That was his name, huh? Carriedo must have been his last name. Antonio Carriedo: a Spanish mechanic that has a thing for staring at strangers for an uncomfortably long time. Okay, maybe 5 seconds wasn't actually that long, but it really felt like a long time for Lovino for some reason or another. He scoffed under his breath as the platform he was on rose up above them, and for a moment, Lovino caught him glancing up at the platform.

-x-

Lunch wasn't long after they had started working on the Jaeger, and it led all the workers in the garage to a massive cafeteria kind of room. Most of the employees at the station were sitting around long tables, laughing and hollering and ragging on and on about the work day so far, and Lovino had stopped to look around the room to find a seat.

Mechanics were mingling with engineers, covered in dust and oil and grease. Some scientists were clustered together, reporting to each other their findings and statistical data to back their ideas to each other. He couldn't really understand what they were talking about, but he assumed that it was some sort of coolant for the Jaeger; their lab coats were covered in stains that looked like ink, as if they wrote so much their pens exploded. However, there was a whole other group of people in the front of the cafeteria that Lovino didn't recognize or think were mechanics, since first off: they were clean. They looked polished, like they were sparkling trophies, and they carried themselves out to be trophies too. They were like a pack of celebrities, with the other worker-bees buzzing around them. "Those are the pilots," said a voice from behind him, each word curling off the owner's tongue and making Lovino nearly drop his food.

"Shit! Where did you come from?!" Lovino hissed in surprise, whirling around to meet Antonio's gaze.

"Relax, I just walked in," Antonio chuckled and shook his head, patting his shoulder as he held up a paper sack. "Want to sit with Gil and I for lunch?"

The Italian shrunk away from Antonio's touch as if his hand was covered in acid. "I don't even know you! I'd rather not," he spat. Antonio made a face and clenched his chest, mocking getting shot in the heart.

"Ouch!" the taller man whined, "That's so mean! Come on, I won't bi-- Ah." He stopped himself and rubbed the back of his head, letting out an airy laugh. "Oops, I forgot to introduce myself."

"Hell yeah you did," Lovino muttered under his breath.

"My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. _Es un placer conocerte_."

It either seemed like the man didn't hear Lovino at all or he chose to kindly ignore it. He bent over slightly in a prince-like bow, extending his hand out for the Italian to shake. His wavy chocolate hair shuffled as he tilted his head up, his emerald orbs meeting the forest green ones of Lovino's. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had locked his eyes with Lovino again, making the Italian's eyebrows shoot up. "What are you, some kind of host?" He chastised, but it only made the Spaniard laugh some more.

"No, no," he answered as he stood erect, but still had his hand out for Lovino to take, "I'm a mechanic, as you already saw!"

"I fucking know that," Lovino grumbled, and Antonio just grinned and shook his head, letting out a little sigh.

"You're a funny guy!" Antonio chuckled, "I like you, uh..."

"Lovino. Lovino Vargas."

"Yeah!" Antonio played like he had known the name already, "I like you, Lovi! I hope we can become great _amigos_ in the future." He spoke brightly, his smile could blind someone if he wasn't careful with it.  He moved his hand a smidgen to bring attention back to the handshake, urging Lovino to take it.

"It's just Lovino!" He growled, but shook Antonio's hand anyway -probably squeezing it a little too tight from annoyance. What the hell was this guy? They had only become acquainted for two minutes, yet he already had a nickname! Did Antonio do this for everyone? By the goofy smile spreading across the Spaniard's lips, he would assume that yes, this man has both 1) a weird tendency to stare at strangers and 2) thus feel he has the right to nickname said stranger.

"C'mon, _Lovi_ ," Antonio emphasized the petname, "Let's sit together!"

Lovino was going to refuse, but the Spanish bastard had a hold of his hand already and pulled him over to the table. The younger Italian refused to hold back his curses as he whined at Antonio the whole twelve feet over, but it seemed that Antonio was completely deaf or chose to be. Gilbert was sitting at the end of one table by himself, the other workers sitting a few seats over and ranting about something. The albino was stuffing his face in some sort of sandwhich and smirking as he ate, delighted by its taste. Lovino had no idea what kind of sandwhich it was, but it tasted great according to the brightness in Gilbert's eyes. Those eyes flickered up when he caught sight of Antonio and Lovino approaching him and slowly looked down at their interlocked hands.

"Kesesese, and you said I couldn't even _hit on_ the fresh meat when you've already got one wrapped around your finger?" Gilbert snickered, "Antonio, you sly dog!"

"TH-THAT'S--" Lovino loudly protested, but Antonio quickly let go of his hand. The Spaniard went ahead and raised both of his own up in self-defense as he sat down, laughing, "Hey, hey, don't make it out to be like that. We only just met!"

"Look at him, he's turning red!" Gilbert pointed at Lovino.

"That's enough, Gil," Antonio waved him off, and Lovino -for some godforsaken reason- sat down next to Antonio, practically fuming at this guy. And in fact, his cheeks were most definitely red from embarrassment. Well, of course he would be embarrassed to get lumped together with someone. Especially if he was getting lumped together with that Spanish asshat! Said asshat set down his own paper bag and then patted Lovino's shoulder. "This is Lovino Vargas, and he's a really cool guy!" Antonio introduced him happily.

"Don't talk about me like you know me!" Lovino cut in.

"Aah, a feisty one, huh?" Gilbert teased, then winked at Antonio, "You better be careful, 'Tonio. And you too, Lovino, this guy's a lady-killer." He nodded his head at Antonio and smirked as he took another bite of his mystery-wich.

"Am not!" Antonio laughed, "I haven't dated in years, you know that!"

The Spaniard opened up his bag and began eating a wrap of some sort - Lovino refused to bother as to what kind it was. Not like he cared anyway. Antonio and Gilbert went on to talk about the apparent disaster that took place earlier, something about a poor wiring job of circuits in the shin that they were working on. The poor bastards had to rewire the entire section that they were working on, and one of their directors became ballistic about it. Lovino didn't talk a whole much since he was mostly pouting about how he was dragged into this situation and further being paired with Antonio because of it. Hell, his salad even tasted crappier than usual from the sheer thought that other people could have seen that and taken it as some sort of relationship budding.

Wait, since when did Lovino ever care about what other people thought of him?

_Tch, God damn it all_ , the Italian thought to himself as the grip he had around his fork tightened.

"...and-- Oh yeah, Lovi?" Antonio's voice cut into his thoughts, making the Italian turn his head.

"It's Lovino, stupid bastard. What is it?"

Antonio cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, leaning in and squinting at the top of Lovino's head. "Sorry if you thought I was staring at you this morning, I really wasn't--"

"You fucking were!"

"No, I didn't mean anything by it," Antonio quickly defended himself as his hand reached up, "I just wanted to ask you about this." Without any sort of warning, the Spaniard hooked a finger around the curl on Lovino's head and tugged it. _Really fucking hard._

Or, at least that's what it felt like to the Italian. Some sort of hot wave shot up and down is spine, making him flinch and drop his fork. A pink blush spread across his face and he squeaked out, " _CHIGI_!" at nearly the top of his lungs as he swatted Antonio's hand away and quickly nabbed a hold of his fork again to point it at the Spaniard like some sort of knife. "DON'T TOUCH IT!" Lovino hissed lividly, making some sort of stabbing motion with his fork. "Weren't you ever taught that curiosity killed the cat?!"

"I-I didn't think the cat was actually going to be killed--"

" _Idiota_ ," Lovino scowled, "It's called a fucking hair that just shouldn't be touched!"

"What?" Antonio asked, confused, "Why not?"

"Because it fucking _shouldn't_ , got it?!" Lovino snapped at him, shaking the fork again. Antonio's emerald eyes flashed from the fork to Lovino's angry glare, then exchanged a glance with Gilbert who had stopped moving all together. It was then that Lovino noticed that some of the other people around them had stopped moving too, all staring at the happenstance with perplexed looks. _Great,_ Lovino thought, _Fucking great._ He wanted to sink into the ground at the humiliation, and he was surprised that he wasn't being physically flattened by the number of gazes on his back. He had to get out of this mess somehow.

"I'm leaving," Lovino quickly grabbed what was left of his salad and bee-lined to the trashcan, and even moreso to the door.

"But Lovino!" Antonio's voice called out from behind him, but Lovino didn't bother to turn and look back. Ugh, these people were all idiots! Embarrassing him like his, it made him feel sick to his stomach. Fucking stupid Spanish bastard! So much for wanting to be "great _amigos_ " or whatever bullshit that was. He could still feel his face burning and his heart pounding from all of that humiliation as he hurried his way back to where he was supposed to be working. These Jaegers needed to be fixed, and the Spanish asshole and his albino-boy-wonder couldn't follow him to his spot.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself as he practically punched the button on the platform to lift it up.

He wasn't sure what made him more angry: either the fact that Antonio had pulled his hair without asking or how he pulled _that_ certain hair. Yeah, it didn't hurt very much but that made it even more of a problem. It actually felt weirdly _good_ , as in actually _pleasurable_ to him. He had had a handful of people pull the hair with either curiosity or reasons, but never had it actually felt _that_ great. Never in a million years had it done that before. That damned curl on his head was both a blessing and a curse, since it felt sexually wonderful to pull on, but it ended up slowing him down in certain situations -mostly fights with people, and if they knew about it that made it ten times more hindering. People could easily take advantage of it. Lovino's hand reached up and rested on the top of his head, the curl avoided between his fingers as to not make himself feel so aroused at the work place.

_Antonio, who the hell are you?!_

-x-

Lovino had simmered down by the time that Roderich came back to work beside him, and this time they actually had a conversation. Well, it was more of a ranting session for Roderich about how he should be working in some sort of music career, but ended up landing this kind of job instead. It was great background noise for Lovino to work with until the Austrian slapped his shoulder with a wrench and scolded him for not listening. And thankfully, he heard nor saw the disastrous dynamic duo for the rest of the afternoon.

Before he knew it, Lovino's work day thus ended and he stood in line behind Roderich to clock himself out for the day. There was a lot of people around him, and the Italian hated that since he was on the shorter side of the gene pool, and the tall crowd looming around him made him feel even smaller. The loud murmur of the workers around him, new and old, made his head hurt, and he tightened his coat around him.

Unconsciously, he reached up and played with a silver chain around his neck with two fingers, its pendant hidden beneath his shirt. God, could these people be any slower?

"Hey, you," a familiar voice spoke behind Lovino, making him turn his head.

"Gilbert?" the Italian breathed, recognizing that silver-white hair anywhere. He frowned bitterly. "What do you want?"

"Ouch, still mad about the whole weird-hair thing," Gilbert's features twisted uncomfortably as he responded, "Look, 'Tonio is really upset about that too, he's been sulking ever since about it."

"And?" Lovino raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, "Why the hell should I care? He needs to learn to keep his hands to himself!"

"Just... tch," Gilbert cursed something German under his breath and looked up at Lovino again, "There's this bar down the road called the Blue Umbrella that we usually go to after work, so you should head over there and have a drink with us and you could maybe possibly forgive him for that incident today." Lovino watched the albino speak and folded his arms, pouting at him. There was no way in hell he would go to a stupid bar. "Fat chance," the Italian answered, "Why isn't he coming over here and spewing out about how bad he so apparently feels, huh?"

"Let's face it, kid," Gilbert said flatly, "Antonio is good at many things, but one thing he fucking sucks at is reading the atmosphere. Just do this one thing for him, alright?" Lovino just gave the man a blank stare as they moved in line together. He felt absolutely no obligation to humor Antonio, not after that catastrophe in the cafeteria earlier. So why on earth should he go to this bar if it was all Antonio's fault anyway? " _If_ I go - and I do mean _if_ \- then I'm not buying my own drinks."

Gilbert just scowled at the answer, annoyed with it, but huffed a quick, "Fine," before padding away and disappearing into the rest of the crowd.

Ha, there was no way in hell Lovino Vargas was going to go to some old bar.

-x-

Huh, so Lovino Vargas ended up standing in front of that old bar.

The Blue Umbrella was, in fact, a rather old place, looking kind of run down. The neon "Open" sign was flickering in the window, but the lights inside were shining just fine, and it wasn't that crowded in there. Sure the walls looked like they were going to collapse, and paint chipped in some places, but people still went, and he could hear the laughter from outside. The snow blanketed the rooftop and the front step as well, but inside looked warm and cozy. The only reason that Lovino was even there was because this place was on the way to his apartment building, not because of the fact that Antonio was probably moping somewhere inside. Of course not.

It...It wouldn't be bad if he popped his head in, right? He was the one receiving an apology, so it's not like this would hurt his pride or anything. Yeah, he was the better man in this situation!

As soon as he walked in, he wanted to shrug off his coat since it was so warm inside, but he kept it on. He wasn't going to stay long: talk to Antonio and leave. That was it. That was supposed to be it, anyway.

Said Spaniard and Gilbert were sitting at the bar on navy-colored barstools with a couple bottles of beer on the counter in front of them. Antonio had his head resting in his hand, the other hand swirling the alcohol around at the bottom of the brown bottle. His usually bright expression was dim and dull as he pouted at the bottle, as if it was the cause of all of his problems. _How old is this guy, five?_ Lovino thought, _He shouldn't be feeling this bad._

Gilbert patted his back a few times, saying something that Lovino couldn't hear over the bar noise, then looked up and caught eyes with the Italian. _Shit_ , Lovino mentally cursed. He could feel his pride crumbling at the fact that he gave in to doing this. "...ah! Speak of the devil himself!" he heard Gilbert announce as the albino shook his friend's shoulder and stood up to stretch. "What brings you here? Kesese~"

"I don't fucking know," Lovino hissed at Gilbert under his breath sarcastically. It was then that Antonio turned around and brightened, like some sort of flower finally getting sunlight. "Lovi!"

"It's Lovino!" the Italian shot back quickly, then bit his bottom lip, irritated at himself. It didn't seem like Antonio minded that at all, since he straightened up and called the bartender over for another round of beers. "And one for my friend here!" He urged, waving Lovino over.

Well, fuck.

The Italian sighed and sat down, unable to escape having a drink now, while Gilbert leaned against the bar. "I guess that's my queue to leave, huh?" the albino chuckled and grabbed his jacket from off he counter. "See ya later!" Lovino's eyes widened as he watched Gilbert march on out like he was the king of the goddamned world. He was alone.

He was alone with the Spanish asshat!

"Wha?" said Antonio as his gaze followed Gilbert, and he blinked, surely confused by the situation. A loud smack came from Lovino as his forehead fell into his palm, obviously irritated to no end. A hit-list had been developing in his head, and he wasn't sure if Antonio or Gilbert should be at the top of it! "Huh? Oh, Lovi!" the Spaniard's voice cut in, and he cleared his throat as the bartender came back with their drinks. When she walked away, Antonio said, "So about earlier today..."

"Hm?" hummed Lovino flatly, not hesitating to take a swig of the beer. He had never appreciated alcohol in front of him so much in his life.

"I'm really sorry that I pulled your hair," Antonio apologized, genuinely sounding guilty, "I just got really curious about it is all and--"

"Save it."

"Huh?"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Lovino looked directly ahead at the rest of the bottles behind the counter, not wanting to make any sort of eye-contact with Antonio. They had done enough of that for a life time today. "If I had a dollar for every time someone did that, I wouldn't need this job." Silence ensued after, and he would probably regret doing this but he went ahead and spared a fleeting look at Antonio. The Spaniard looked like some sort of puppy in the face of a treat, eyes bright and eager. Hell, if the man had a tail it would be wagging up a storm.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Silence. Lovino wasn't really good at talking to people, even less so people that were annoying to no end, so he simply chose not too. Or, he might have been too afraid to make an ass of himself, but that was besides the point.

"So are you forgiving me?" Antonio asked, leaning a little forward in anticipation to hear some sort of approval. The younger male simply took a drink and let out a sigh, the alcohol burning in his throat. He didn't even like the taste of beer, but he needed something to loosen this crap called "forgiveness" out of him.

"Sure."

" _¡Gracias! ¡Muchas gracias!_ " cheered the Spaniard in his mother language, taking Lovino's free hand in his own. "I'm so relieved! I thought you would hate me on the first day, but I guess not!" Both the movement and Antonio's words made the Italian's eyes widen slightly, lips breaking away from the mouth of the bottle.  However, after a moment, he returned to his normal drinking posture, taking down another swig before saying, "You're a fucking idiot."

"What? That's so mean!" Antonio gasped, mocking being struck in the chest. He laughed at himself and took a drink of his beer himself, then turned to face Lovino, "You're Italian, right?"

"Hm?"

"You kind of have an accent. Southern Italy, I'm guessing?"

"Huh," Lovino set his bottle down, blinking in surprise that Antonio could pinpoint a region. Maybe he was one of those guys that was book-smart and not so much street smart, "Yeah. From Rome, to be more specific."

"Woah! No way!" Antonio's eyes lit up as he grinned, sounding thoroughly fascinated with the subject. "I'm from Madrid, but I've always wanted to go to Rome and see the Roman Coliseum or just the towns in Italy. I've heard it's a beautiful place."

Lovino smirked against the lid of the bottle. "It's the best damn place you'll ever go, if you decide to go there. Yeah, there's some parts that aren't all that pretty, but that's something everything has, right?" He stared into space at the mentioning of his old home; the streets of Italy were the most beautiful things in the world to him. "You sound like a fucking tourist."

Antonio turned to face the front again, grinning as if something about the insult had satisfied him, and he took another drink. "I'd love to visit there one day. What made you come to Tokyo?"

The Italian stopped and hesitated, not really sure how to answer. Images flashed in his head, his grandfather's brilliant face, ash-smeared clothes, the roar of a beast-like fire swallowing up everything in its path... Lovino closed his eyes and took another drink, hoping that it would wash that uncomfortable memory away. "A need for a change of pace, to be brief. Yourself?"

Antonio opened his mouth, then closed it again. Open and close, like a fish gasping for water or something, trying to figure out how to put it. "Hmmm... Well, I guess work would be the reason why."

"What, as a mechanic at the station?" Lovino asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not exactly," Antonio answered, his eyes having some sort of distant look to them. "I did a lot of different things before working on Jaegers."

"Hm?" the Italian inquired, "Like what?"

"A hell of a lot of studying," Antonio laughed and went on to explain that he had studied Jaegers for a while, how they worked and the history behind them. He hated seeing everyone else so hurt by these Kaiju monsters, hated seeing the hundreds and thousands of lives taken so easily, so he had to do _something_ about it. It made Lovino roll his eyes. _A passionate idiot with a hero-complex_ , he thought, _It sounds nice, but I feel like that'll get him into a lot of trouble._

"So you've been a mechanic for a while?" Lovino asked, "How old are you?"

"26," Antonio replied, "I've only been a mechanic for a couple years, though. My best advice is to just get your work done as fast as possible. The boss yells at me and Gil a whole lot, since we joke around a lot. I don't think it's too much, I think the boss just likes to yell at people." Lovino looked the older male up and down, not expecting the sudden age difference between them. "Hm? Why are you looking at me like that?" the Spaniard questioned.

"I'm only 21," Lovino said flatly, "I just didn't think you were so old since you act like a little kid."

"Huh?!" the other gasped, not sure to be offended by being called old or childish. "I'm not that much older than you, Lovi!"

"It's LO-VI-NO," the Italian shot back quickly.

Suddenly, any sort of offense in Antonio's expression was gone, replaced by a little smile and a chuckle. It was strange to the younger brunette how quickly the Spaniard was able to change his air, but all had some sort of happiness in them. "Are you laughing at me?" He accused, and the other man just shook his head.

"No, no, it's just the fact that you're really cute!"

Lovino's eye twitched at that word, and he stifled a shudder as he downed the last of his bottle. How many was that now, 2 or 3? He wasn't sure, but he could feel his cheeks burn softly on his cheeks as he set the bottle down on the table with a little clank. It was probably just the alcohol making his face heat up like this. "A-Am not! What the hell makes me cute?! I'm a man, goddamnit! Men aren't supposed to be cute!"

"I think that anyone can be cute if they try hard enough, and you, Lovi, are definitely cute. Ah! You're turning red like a little _tomate_!" Antonio saidas he poked the other's cheek once or twice. It wasn't hard, it was just a gentle little prod of the finger, but it was enough to make the Italian swat Antonio's hand away.

"Am not!"

"You're doing it again~!" the Spaniard practically sang, making Lovino frown furiously.

"Doing what?!"

"Being cute."

Lovino buried his face in his hands, rubbing vigorously as he growled out some sort of agitated groan. Somehow, his irritation seemed to amuse the older man, causing him to snort. He hated being called "cute", _especially_ from men. The ladies could call him anything they wanted, since Lovino had a strong respect toward them -even without his grandfather's preachings about the wonders of women, Lovino never snapped at girls unless they really got under his skin. But if a guy ever called him cute, he would tense up like a cat who got rubbed the wrong way.

It wasn't until long that the pair of mechanics got up from the bar - Antonio paying without Lovino's consent for the record- and headed out, wrapping themselves up in their own coats and making their way through town. The icy snow crunched under their shoes, and the wind tugged gently at their clothes and hair. It seemed that they lived near by each other, so Lovino had to stay stuck with Antonio for another few blocks or so. As they made their way through the streets, Antonio threw out a question to ignite another conversation, "So what's it like in Italy?"

"Well, it's pretty different depending on where you go," Lovino began, "I got to travel around a lot when I was younger, so every town was a little different than the rest. Yeah, yeah, there was the stereotypical differences in pastas -my brother could name every one off the back of his hand- but the pizzas in different parts of the country are the best!"

"Oh, you have a broth-" Antonio wanted to ask, but the Italian cut him off, some sort of spark in his hazel green eyes.

"Back in Italy there were all sorts of different styles of baking and making the dough, making the sauce and adding all sorts of different toppings together to make _un magnifico capolavoro_!" As Lovino went on, his words started falling from his mouth faster and faster, his accent thickening accidentally. "Every single detail changes depending on the pizza-maker, and almost all of the pizzas in Italy are by far the best food you will ever eat in your entire life! And my Grandpa Roma, goddamn, he was the absolute best at making pizzas, made them flawlessly! Why, if he was still around, I'd ask him to make one for you since I really pity anyone who hasn't had his pizza! I would make it for you myself, but I'm nowhere near as fantastic a pizza chef as Grandpa Roma!" he mused.

When Lovino stopped to turn and flash a glance at Antonio, he noticed that the Spaniard wasn't there beside him, and he quickly turned around. Shit, had he lost him?! Wait a minute, Lovino had slipped into a passionate tangent. That might have scared him away.

The brightness in his features dimmed for a moment, drooping at the thought.

However, the Italian caught sight of the male he was walking with, just standing in the snow with a deer-in-headlights kind of expression, as if dumbfounded or staring at something that was truly mind-boggling. His mouth hung open, and his emerald eyes were wide. "Oi, stupid tomato head!" Lovino called out, his words coming out in little puffs of smoke from the cold, "If you don't close your fucking mouth, you'll catch flies." Suddenly, Antonio busted out into laughter.

Hell, the man hunched over, clutching a tight hold onto his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes with his gloves.

Lovino's eyebrows slowly rose up to his hairline as he watched the Spaniard guffaw, a sudden realization coming to mind. He had just made a complete ass of himself, hadn't he? He drooped again, even the little curl on his head falling down slightly as he felt the embarrassment sink in like a rock in his stomach. He just stood there and watched Antonio recollect himself before running back over, tears of laughter still glistening in the corners of his eyes. "I can't believe it!" He cheered, "I just can't believe it!"

"What?" Lovino muttered bitterly, thankful that the cold air made his face red, not just the humiliation he felt. "What are you laughing at me for?"

"Laughing at you?" Antonio repeated, then shook his head, "Haha, Lovi, I'm not laughing at you. It's just you surprised me!" Lovino just glared at him, clearly unamused and not having an understanding as to what was so funny. "I didn't expect you to get so hyped up over food, and just the vigor in your eyes with the night lights of the city, it was almost as if you were a completely different person. This might sound a little romantic, but you probably could have lit up the world with that kind of face."

_What?_

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

"Well, _mi pequeño tomate_ , you've got me sold," Antonio went on, raising a hand up to ruffle Lovino's hair affectionately, "I'd love to try your pizza some time. I don't know anything about your grandfather, but from what I've heard from you, it seems like he has great taste. And so do you. So I'd love to have pizza some time, but be warned. Back in Spain, we have a lot of great food too, so I may be a skeptic!" For a moment, the pair locked eyes, and Lovino felt like the entire world had stopped. Antonio's gaze was kind, more kind than any looks he had received in a long time, and the Spaniard's hand was warm on the top of his head, messing up his hair. For a split second, Lovino didn't mind it at all. But then, his eyes went wide and his face turned red.

"Ch-ch-chIGI!" Lovino spat and jumped away from Antonio's touch, making the older male frown and the world around them come into view again. "T-Tch, like I'd ever actually make a pizza for _you_ , you fucking stupid bastard!" He sputtered, quickly backing away. Antonio just gave him an odd look and reached out for him.

"Lovi?"

"M-My apartment building is down to road so don't walk me the rest of the way to the door, I can walk myself!" He fumbled over his words, heart racing as he hastily spun around and ran in the other direction. Antonio was left in the gentle snowfall with a perplexed glint in his eye, watching the Italian shrink out of sight with lightning speed. "Lovi!" Antonio's voice rang out over the crowd, but the young Italian didn't dare to look back.

_What the hell was that?!_

_What the actual fucking hell_ was _that?!_ Lovino thought as he raced back to his apartment building. It wasn't the greatest, but it was enough for the Italian to run into and hide as soon as he got up to his floor and into his apartment and furthermore into his bedroom. He threw off the thicker coat and tossed it lazily on the small loveseat he had, then darted into his bedroom and slammed the door.

The walls were thin, so his neighbors could probably hear that, but fuck them. They weren't important right now.

_How in the name of all things sane could I have let that happen?!_ He thought as he crawled into bed, wrapping himself in the covers tight like a shell. Lovino hadn't usually gone off into tangents like that, not in a long time. People thought that was weird and unappealing, right? Antonio had nearly died laughing at him out of sheer surprise. So, it was weird and he completely made an ass of himself.

But what the most confusing thing was was that Antonio didn't yell at him for it.

_"You could have probably lit up the world with that kind of face."_

_That stupid tomato head! That sounds like some sort of pick-up line or something!_ Lovino thought as the Spaniard's words echoed in his head. He didn't know what to make of such sayings, and it made the Italian squirm uncomfortably in the sheets. He could practically feel that guy's hand messing up his hair again, and the ghost-feeling was oddly warmer than the blankets wrapped around him. He cringed and curled into himself, smothering his own face into the pillow.

_We drank,_ Lovino remembered, _we drank some. That must have been it, that damned alcohol. I'm never going to drink with that asshole ever again!_

_It just_ had _to be the alcohol, right?_

 

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And that's the end! I've never published stuff on here, so if my format is kind of odd, let me know and I'll do my best to change it. (I'm too used to fanfiction.net, ack) If you want to talk to me about shippy things or whatever, best way to reach me is through tumblr ( a-phoenix-from-the-ashes.tumblr.com ) because I want to make friends. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon! :)


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